


Double Dutch

by pearhead



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!, Yu-Gi-Oh! Series
Genre: F/M, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, but its worth it trust me I swear
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-23
Updated: 2018-06-02
Packaged: 2019-03-22 20:03:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13771512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pearhead/pseuds/pearhead
Summary: "To think, all this started with a game of Double Dutch."Yami and Atemu attend the same academy and never knew that their paths would overlap almost 18 years later in the same city. Unfortunately for them, they have their own battles to overcome, and one of them includes each other.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story is going to be long. I'll just say that now. As the story progress, more tags and characters and relationships will appear, but for now, it is Monarchshipping. I will try to get updates out as soon as I can, because I've been sitting on this story for five years. Yikes. 
> 
> I'm a bit rusty with the whole fanficition thing; it's been five years since I've published anything. But hopefully, this'll be enough. Hopefully. 
> 
> Enjoy.
> 
> Also, none of these chapters are beta'd. I'm sorry.

_“Kids are weird. We were weird kids, at least.”_

Yami definitely remembered his first kiss. It was nothing special, nothing sparky or remotely romantic. In fact, his first kiss was possibly the most libido-softening experience of his life. Perhaps it was because of the fact that his first kiss was unceremoniously stolen by an eight-year-old. Not that he was expecting any sort of skill when it happened, but he would’ve preferred it to be with an individual who presented some type of know-how. 

Saint Joseph’s Academy for the Well-Mannered was a small private institution ran by a small Vatican missionary sector whose goal was to successfully start a school that was most what centered around traditional Christian values. The neighborhood that Yami lived in was mostly targeted by this sector due to the property values of a lot of the bus. Door-to-door advertising was the group’s best selling method of reducing vacancy, and within six months they had gathered enough students to create a middle school faction. David Dane was fortunate enough to have moved his family there before the school was constructed. As soon as he caught wind of the promises of this new institution, two of his children were one of the first twenty to be enrolled. Yami and Bakura didn’t have much trouble with their work. In fact, academics came off as rudimentary and not very different from the criteria taught at other schools they had attended. Nevertheless, Mister Dane was a martinet when it came to grades. He made sure that every child that lived under his roof had a exemplary academic career regardless of age. So, his two little boys were guided into developing the mindset of a scholar. This proved to backfire when it came to the development of the children’s social life. During conferences, though the curricular activity was stellar, teachers would often voice their concern for the lack of interaction the two would share with other students. Mister Dane would respond with confidence in his children’s abilities. Being a very prospering businessman, Mister Dane believed that childhood was the time to solidify an efficient foundation. Once that was out of the question, less important requirements could be focused on. And this was the philosophy that he passed on to his sons. Success always comes from sacrifice. Misses Dane, however, was the more understanding parent. Believing that the definition of success was subjective, she did her best to coach her children to follow their own pace, much to the chagrin of her husband. Whenever he was absent, she would force the children to take breaks between long homework hours to rest, stretch, or eat. She took them to carnivals and fairs when David was on his trips. She encouraged them to think outside of the box, and color outside of the lines. This was a completely opposite way of thinking, of course, which would leave the children stuck in an evitable limbo.  
It became clear that the children would not be able to rely on their parents’ advice forever; they’d soon have to come to their own ultimatum on how they’d perform. For Bakura, it came easy. He had long since ignored the strict preachings of his father. But, for Yami, change came differently. Unexpectedly. Unwantingly. All from that damned first kiss. 

1998’s Spring was an unrelenting barrage of heat and rain and humidity. Uniform blouses clung to sweaty backs even with air conditioning on full blast. Parents were now encouraged to bring an extra set of clothes for their boys to change into after recess. Bottles of water were passed out to students to reassure hydration. The staff knew, though, that hot weather riled up young boys. They knew they could not keep them collected for long. They would fidget in the classrooms’ stuffiness and daydream of their scheduled playtime. In response, the staff made a decision to grant their students two recess periods in between classes as a way to relieve the pent-up energy. 

During many of their play periods, Yami and his brother could be found alone together. They’d talk to each other, read with each other, or simply not go out together. Other times, another boy - Ryou Taylor - would accompany them. Ryou was a mousy boy with sweet cocoa eyes and a love for art. He’d sometimes bring his sketchpad outside and take a seat on the grass, sketching whatever he saw. He would present these sketches to Yami and Bakura in exchange for companionship. 

“My mummy says I can’t run too much, or I’ll get dizzy.” He would watch the other kids longingly from the shade. 

Bakura found himself intrigued by this boy. For one, he had the same messy white locks as he did, and his accent led Bakura onto believe that he also hailed from the United Kingdom. When interrogated, Ryou explained that his parents moved from Manchester to Alexandria for a new business opportunity regarding his mother. Luckily, he had an uncle who lived in the area where they could stay with. But he missed Manchester dearly and wished his mother could go back. Bakura, decided that, at that moment, he would take it upon himself to make Ryou happy to be here. Everyday at recess, he would tie the boy’s hair back with a hair tie he stole from his sister. He’d keep Ryou next to him and make sure he didn’t get too hot. He would give Ryou his water bottle when he would drink all of his. Yami began to notice how close the two had gotten over the school year, and had his suspicion of what their relationship was becoming. Though he already knew that Bakura was much less abiding towards their father’s rule, Bakura wouldn’t get closer to another boy just to spite him, right?

No. Bakura feared his father’s wrath just as much as Yami did. 

One particular recess period tested Yami’s loyalty to his father’s expectations. 

The children were now allowed to have toys outside of the classrooms. The school had enough funds to buy the boys footballs and soccer balls, frisbees, and even install swing sets next to brand new jungle gyms. Teachers would watch their pupils play from the comfort of the shade, meaning to give off a sense of accountability and responsibility. The children were to micro-manage themselves to prove their maturity. This appeared as no problem to Yami, Bakura, and Ryou. In fact, the three had made themselves busy with a pair of jump ropes they had gotten from the stash. Bakura told the two of a game he used to play with his friends back in London called Double Dutch. Two people would hold the ends of two jump ropes and twirl them in opposite directions, making jumping rope a lot harder. He would have Ryou and Yami hold the ends so he could demonstrate, and they’d move behind the large wooden playground set so they wouldn’t attract too much attention. 

“How are you able to move so fast, Bakura? You aren’t getting tired?” Ryou asked in astonishment, spinning the ropes according to Bakura’s commands. 

“He’s played this game before, Ryou. Maybe a hundred times!”

Basking in the adulation he was receiving, Bakura ignored the smoldering heat he was suffering from and pressed on, his feet hitting the orange dirt beneath them. Unbeknownst to the trio, another group of boys became interested in the game, and they were eager to play as well. 

“Hey! We call next game!” 

Yami peered over from his periphery and spotted the gang of boys approaching them. The one who called out had a large grass stain on the front of his blouse. He had a bandaid on the bridge of his nose. His wild tresses fit right in with the rest of his friends who also bore similar disheveled heads of hair. 

“Bakura-” He motioned over to the upcoming trouble. Bakura acknowledged the trio and frowned, jumping in front of the ropes to defend. “No way! We were playing first! You gotta wait until we’re done!”

“Oh yeah? If you ain’t done playin’ then why did you stop?” One of the boys retorted with snark. Large cheeky grins were plastered on their dirty faces. “It looks like you’re done now! Let us have a turn!”

“No! We had it first! It’s our game! You don’t even know how to play it!” Bakura snapped back, stepping in front of the ropes like a wall. 

“They ain’t yours! The teachers said we can all play with them!”  
“You don’t need two of them anyway!”  
“Give ‘em up!”

All of the yelling was bound to draw attention. The situation needed to be resolved before the teachers came to investigate. 

“Bakura, can’t you just show them how to play?” Yami gave his brother a suggestive look, hoping that he’d agree. Bakura snapped out of his frustration to analyse the gravity of the conflict. These hooligans seemed to be persistent on playing, and there was nothing he could think of to bribe the others into wanting anything other than the jump ropes. So, with a heavy and defeated sigh, he let up. “I’ll show you how to play. Yami and Ryou--you two spin the ropes.” The new gang of boys watched in interest as Bakura jumped back into revolving ropes, and they cheered him on until he hopped out, panting. 

“Why’d you stop? You were doin’ good!” One of the boys complained. 

“It don’t matter--it’s my turn now!” One of the boys - he had sandy brown hair and tanned skin - scooted Bakura aside in preparation. “Move aside, Fluffy. Lemme show you how a pro jumps rope.” 

“Be careful, Marik. Don’t burn ‘em too bad!” Another boy called out, and Yami registered the jumper’s name as Marik. “Spin the ropes!” Marik commanded, and Yami snapped out of his trance, nodding to Ryou to start twirling the ropes again. Everyone watched as Marik eyed the ropes for a few beats before jumping in — only to trip and flop onto the Earth. His friends exploded in laughter. Bakura rolled his eyes. 

“You definitely showed them, didn’t you?” More laughter erupted, the boys practically doubling over. Yami considered helping the boy off the ground, but he was already up before he could offer his help. Orange dirt now clung to his uniform regardless of the dusting off that he attempted. 

“I’d like to see you try, Atemu! That crap’s hard!” Marik rejoined his group, laying a seemingly playful punch on “Atemu’s” shoulder. “It ain’t as easy as normal jump rope. You’d fall too!” 

“That’s what you get…” Bakura muttered, going to Ryou and collecting his end of the rope and wrapping it around itself. “Well, thanks for ruining our game. We were doing okay before you came over.” 

“What? What about us? We didn’t get to play!” The group began to protest. Bakura growled, pulling Ryou to his side. “We don’t even know who you are!”

“What does that gotta do with us wanting to play with the jump ropes?”

“Nah nah. We should introduce ourselves.” The one named Atemu grinned, giving a half-hearted wave. “I’m Atemu Gamal. The one who fell on his face is Marik Hamada and this is—”

“Don’t tell them my name; they ain’t gotta know who I am.” The last of the trio interrupted with a scowl. “Just tell them to let us have the stupid ropes.”

“But we were playing with them first, a-and you guys just butted in..” Ryou finally spoke up, “can’t you just wait till next time?”

“Uh, no? Because they aren’t yours! We can play with them whenever we want to!” 

Ryou shrunk back. 

“Akefia, calm down, dude.” Atemu turned to his friend, “we ain’t gotta have them right now, right?” 

“You really gonna let these buttheads talk to you any kind of way, Atemu? You like ‘em or somethin’?” Atemu scowled and socked Akefia in the arm, “shut up, dude. That’s gross.” 

“Okay, look.” Yami finally spoke up. “How about we all take turns jumping? We can switch between each group.” He pointed to Akefia, “you can go after Bakura. He can go as long as he can before you. Then he switches out and you go for as long as you can before letting everyone else have a turn.” Much to Yani’s relief, the group agreed on these conditions and the rope was unraveled, the game continuing. Bakura did everything he could to go as long as possible, ignoring the praise he received after he was done. He took the ends from Ryou and began to twirl it for Akefia, who eyed him warily from the side. 

“Don’t screw me up, Fluffy, or I’ll knock your block off.” He threatened lowly, sticking a finger at Bakura before jumping into the ropes. The boys watched with bated breath as Akefia jumped into the ropes. As the boy in front of him jumped, Yami examined him and gave thought to his friends. He didn’t remember ever seeing them before. Granted, they did have different teachers, but Yami figured that either lunch or recess would’ve been ideal periods to notice them. In fact, the more he thought about it, Yami was confused as to how he didn’t see them. The three were doubtlessly the most...exotic children at the academy by far. Especially Atemu. Yami studied the unkempt disorder that grew on the boy’s head (though, Yami’s hair wasn’t any tidier) and the brilliant cherry eyes that would lock with his own for a split moment before darting away. They were full of timid curiosity, as if it were hot for him to even look at in his direction. Yami frowned, choosing to focus on Akefia. Before long, the boy had proven that he was more than capable at holding his own in this game and hopped out, panting like he had finished a marathon. 

“Beat that, Cottonball.” Akefia triumphantly spat towards Bakura and Ryou. The latter of the two ducked his head. Bakura growled, ready to jump back in, only to remember Yami’s proposal. He held his tongue. 

“Atemu…?” Yami cautiously asked, “do you want a turn?” This caught Atemu full attention as his eyebrows darted upwards. “Me? Oh. Nah but...can I talk to you?” It was Yami’s turn to be caught off-guard now. He nodded and motioned to Ryou to take over his position on the ropes. Once his position was covered, he covered the distance between him and Atemu. 

“No, not here. Further away; it’s kinda really important.” 

Acknowledging the “urgency” of the conversation, Yami agreed to follow the boy behind the giant playset and put his concentration on Atemu. The boy’s entire demeanor seemed to shift once the time were together; his eyes would shy away from meeting Yami’s. 

“Are you okay, Atemu?” Yami spoke up. 

The boy fidgeted in his spot a bit, a nervous grin forming on his lips. “Yeah, I’m good, but—“ he peered over his shoulder, “I didn’t wanna ask this in front of all of them.” He faced Yami once more, and a red tint coated his cheeks. 

“Your face is red. Do you need a nurse?” 

“No, no nurse..”

“Are you too hot?” 

“It is a little hot out here…” The boys both looked as a group of boys yelled over each other. A soccer ball skidded past them. 

“Maybe you should go inside. You could go get another bottle of water.”

“I don’t need no water…” Atemu muttered, gnawing on the inside of his cheek. 

“Then how about you go get changed? I’m sure the teachers won’t mind you changing early—“  
“What’s your name?” Atemu asked suddenly, causing Yami to frown. “Didn’t I already tell you my name?”

“I don’t think I was listening to ya...” 

Wrinkling his nose at the choice of vernacular, Yami introduced himself as formally as he could muster. Perhaps to make a good first impression. Or maybe it was to try and show Atemu what proper English sounds like. 

“Did all you want to ask about was my name?”

“No…”

“Then what’s wrong? You’re being weird.” 

“How old are you?”

“I’m eight.”

“Oh.” Atemu perked up a bit, “good! That’s good, ‘cuz…” the boy took a deep breath. “‘Cuz my brother told me as long as you’re the same age as me, it’s okay.” 

“What's okay?” Yami looked past Atemu’s head to check on Ryou and Bakura.

“This is gonna sound really weird and gross but um…” Atemu took a step close. Tentative. Timid. Yami took a step back cautiously. “Can I kiss you? Really quick?” 

Yami’s eyes widened. He searched the boy’s face for any sign of jesting nature. He found nothing but what appeared to be genuineness. Atemu wanted a legitimate yes, didn’t he? Yami couldn’t believe it. From the pleading gaze the other held to the question itself, Atemu was ready for consent. 

And Yami was utterly repulsed by it. 

“No!” The answer was louder than anticipated, but Yami was pleased with the reaction it produced. Atemu visibly winced and scanned the area for a new audience. “Shh!” He hissed. 

“What’s _wrong_ with you?” Yami asked, baffled. Atemu deflated, his eyes meeting the ground, “I just thought—“

“I don’t even know you! We just met each other!”

“Yami, please be quiet…”

“Two boys don’t—“ Exasperated sigh. “Two boys _aren’t_ supposed to kiss!” 

“Says who?” Atemu asked quietly, and angered Yami even more. 

“That’s just the way it is! Boys and girls kiss! And I don’t like boys!” 

“W-Well, my brother told me that love was when two people liked each other a lot, so I thought that—“

“You don’t love me, Atemu! You _don’t_!”

“Can’t I have the chance to?” 

“No! What is _wrong_ with you?” With every attack, Yami noticed Atemu’s confidence shattering bit by bit. His questions came off as more suggestive now, and Yami was running out of ways to get it through the boy’s thick skull. 

“Stop saying that. Ain’t nothing wrong with me.” The response was shaky. 

“Yes there is. That’s why you won’t leave me alone! Because something’s _wrong_ with you!” 

Then, all in one moment, the reality around the two came into focus. The playground had gotten quiet. A number of boys were now watching the pair, whispering to each other. Bakura and Ryou, along with Atemu’s friends were some of them. 

And Atemu was crying. His shoulders shook and hiccups grew more and more audible the more Yami tuned into it. The tanner boy bit on the inside of his lip to keep it from trembling, but his eyes gave it all away. Heavy drops gathered at the corners of his eyes and threatened to hit the dirt. The whispers around him got louder. 

“Go away, Atemu.” Yami commanded softly, “go away from me.” 

Atemu didn’t budge. Yami’s eyebrows collected at the center of his forehead and he pushed past Atemu, unintentionally bumping into the boy’s shoulder on the way. He made a direct line to the classroom and felt a bit of tension lift off of his shoulders when he heard the soft thudding of shoes not too far behind. 

The playground gradually grew loud again. Atemu was still glued to his spot when his friends made their way over. They asked no questions. They did their best to dry his tears. 

 

“He asked you that? Straight up?” Bakura asked incredulously, “well, he is brave.” The three sat at their respective table watching Yami write out his stream of consciousness on a sheet of paper. Ryou peeked at the words and frowned. _Stupid. Stupid. Stupid Atemu. Stupid boy. I hate boys. I hate Atemu. I hate Atemu. I hate Atemu. I hate Atemu. Stupid. I like girls. Girls. Stupid._

“Are you gonna tell Miss Wardingley?” Ryou faintly, hoping for a no. Yami shook his head. 

“Are you gonna tell Dad..?” 

Yami froze, the corner of his lips drawing up into a scowl. 

“Of course I’m gonna tell Dad.” Bakura put his head on the tabletop with a groan. “Yami, please don’t. He’ll never shut up about it ever again.”

Yami believed he understood Ryou and Bakura’s dynamic. The two stood close together when in close vicinity. And though Bakura scarcely spoke of Ryou at home, he was protective over him at school. Bakura most definitely feared his father’s wrath. But perhaps he didn’t want him to tell because of his own situation. How would it look for your brother to talk negatively of boys kissing other boys right next to you? 

Well, none of that mattered. Bakura’s dilemmas didn’t have to overlap with Yami’s. Yami didn’t like boys. It wasn’t his problem. 

“I just feel like Dad needs to know about something bad that’s happened. Don’t you?” 

Bakura heaved a tired sigh, sitting up in his seat and crossing his arms over chest. “Yeah. Sure. Go on and tell him.”

The rest of the day dragged on slowly. The rest of the boys flooded into the classroom and the atmosphere reeked of outside. Yami made sure to keep his eyes off of Atemu, especially when he caught the boy staring at him. Once the final bell of the day rung, Bakura snuck Ryou a kiss on the cheek before joining his brother in front of the school to wait for their parents to retrieve them. Misses Dane was always first to pick up her sons. The two quickly filed into the minivan and buckled up, greeting their mother cheerily. Misses Dane smiled at them wearily through the rearview. 

“What happened today, boys? The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly.”

Bakura and Yami exchanged looks before Bakura went first. He talked of the Mystery Meat Casserole they served at lunch, the A-plus he received on his spelling test, and how he got white socks dirty. 

“Yami? What about you?” 

“Well, uh…” Yami fiddled with his hands, “can I tell you at home? When Dad’s with us?” 

At first, she was perplexed, but she agreed nevertheless. The rest of the car ride was silent. 

 

When they pulled into the garage, David Dane’s arguing could already be heard. Misses Dane sighed and lead her boys inside. The room smelled savory; a pot sat on the stove. 

“Dinner will be done in a minute. Go start on your homework.” Misses Dane murmured into her sons’ ears. 

“No, Arnold! Don’t refer me to Jackson! Jackson doesn’t know the acreage on the estate!” David’s voice boomed, making everyone in the room wince. 

“Dad, you’re too loud.” A flat voice came from the dinner table. David acknowledged the voice and moved upstairs, his conversation less audible. Bakura and Yami made their way over to the dinner table and greeted their sister. 

“Why does he always listen to you? He would’ve yelled at us if we interrupted any of his phone calls..” Bakura grumbled under his breath, pulling out his homework folder. 

“Because I’m the favorite.” Was Serenity’s simple response. She sat up from her work to flip her hair from over her shoulder, pulling a hair tie from her wrist to restrain her long brown locks. Serenity, who was twelve and in the seventh grade. She was the wisest of the three, Yami felt, and was the easiest to talk to. Though Bakura was around him more than Serenity, Yami didn’t exactly like how he proved much more unorthodox than her, and was far more vocal about his distastes. Yami labelled Serenity as a second mother; one that he could talk to whenever his actual mother was too tired to deal with his shenanigans. In fact, Serenity always acted like a second mother by default. She instilled a sense of motherhood over the boys, probably because she was the oldest. She would sneak the boys snacks after bedtime, or help them with their hair when their mother was helping her husband get ready for the day. She’d help them with their homework, and even give them friend advice (not that they ever took it, for Serenity was as socially withdrawn as they were). 

“What homework do you guys have?” She asked, eyes still trained on her own work. 

“Mixed and improper fractions. Ways to make a dollar. Studying the layers of the Earth. Memorizing the Gettysburg Address. Practicing writing our names in cursive.” Yami listed off absent-mindedly, taking out his agenda. “Easy stuff.” 

“Dad’s going on another business trip Saturday. Something about discussing land ownership with a corporate jerk in America.” She snickered a bit, making sure to keep quiet. 

“Is he gonna take you with him again?”

“He offered to. I told him not to bother. Those trips aren’t as fun as you think they are.” 

Footsteps from above signalled that the time for chatter was over. Everyone was focused on something: Misses Dane on dinner, Serenity on her Algebra, and Yami and Bakura on finding how many nickels it took to make a dollar. David re-entered the kitchen and observed his family with pride. 

“Good evening, everyone.” He greeted the room and received proper hellos back. “Bakura. Yami. What is one thing you learned today?”

“Madame C.J. Walker was actually born as Sarah Breedlove and was the first African American female entrepreneur in America. She was known for her hair products, which revolutionized the hair industry for African Americans.” Yami readily answered, his response rehearsed and monotonous. He finished the front side of his first worksheet. 

“Olympus Mons is the tallest mountain in the solar system and can be found on Mars, which was named after the Roman god of war. Scientists believe that it’s actually an active shield volcano.” Bakura fired off after him, tracing the dotted lines on the practice paper. 

“Oh yeah?” David hummed in thought. 

“I got an A-plus on my spelling test as well.”

“Well done.” David nodded, patting Bakura’s back gingerly before going to personally address his wife. “Good evening, Aziza.” His coo could be heard before Misses Dane’s soft giggle. The two share a short peck. The children pretend to gag. 

Dinner was Pasta Puttanesca with a side of Caesar salad. The whole family gathered around the dinner table, blessed the food promptly, and began to eat quietly. Dinner wasn’t the most riveting part of the day. David would question his kids on the current status of their grades and such, but nothing too exciting. Occasionally, his phone would go off and he’d try to check it, only for his wife to give him a look and he put it off to the side. 

“Yami,” Misses Dane cleared her throat, “do you want to tell me how your day went now that your father is here?” 

Yami, who had completely forgot about the topic, swallowed his pasta and nodded, eyes settling on his plate. Bakura brought his juice to his lips, his look fixated on his brother. 

“Today at recess..” Now that it was time to confess, Yami had realized that he hadn’t rehearsed what he was going to tell his parents. He was too focused on being angry and thinking up fun facts for his father to be impressed by. “I met a boy.” Good start. “And he was nice at first, but…”

“But-?” David asked anticipatingly, an eyebrow arched. 

“But then he started being all weird to me.”

“Elaborate, Yami. What do you mean by weird?”

Yami’s toes curled in his socks. David was getting impatient. “He started asking me how old I was and stuff, and starting talking about his brother-”

“Sweetie, that isn’t weird. He was trying to be your friend.” Aziza said softly.  
“B-But he did more than that. He asked me if he could...kiss me.” Yami’s palms were sweaty. His ears were red hot, and he couldn’t bring himself to meet his father’s leer. Serenity looked up from her plate in newfound interest. Bakura forked himself more pasta. Aziza’s own eyes widened, and she peered to David to see his reaction. 

“And did you?”

“D-Did I what?”

“Did you kiss him, Yami? Did you kiss that boy?” David asked in a steady tone. Yami shook his head. “No, sir. I told him no.”

“Good. Don’t you _ever_ speak to that boy again. Don’t let him speak to you. You ignore him no matter what. That goes for you too, Bakura. We don’t associate with people like that.” 

“Yes sir.” Bakura nodded curtly. The grip on his fork tightened, and it caught Serenity’s eye. She sipped her juice.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long. Now that school is out, I'll dedicate more time to this. No worries, I haven't forgotten about it.

David left Sunday morning and announced he’d return in two weeks. When Aziza asked where, David only responded with “America”, and drove off after delivering a swift kiss to the woman’s lips. The children stood on the porch, watching the car slowly back out of the driveway, turn left, and then zoom out of the subdivision. For a while, Aziza stood there, her gaze glued to where the car was last. Then, she reached up and pulled her long, black tresses out of its ponytail, and took a deep breath. The hair fell limply against her back. “Go get some clothes on.” She turned to the children. 

“I don’t wanna wear a suit.” Bakura blurted out, “I can't breathe in it.” 

“Then don’t wear it. Wear your sneakers. Throw on a hoodie. I’ll help you put your hair up.” 

“We can’t wear that to church.” Serenity said. 

“Who said we were going to church?” Aziza’s smile was blinding.

Misses Dane played the Submissive Housewife very well. When David was around, she wore her hair in a tight bun or ponytail to keep it out the way. When David had company over, they were never without refreshments. She only gave her opinion when it was asked for. She wore dresses that showed the right amount of skin, never too much cleavage. She accepted every kiss. She was a true trophy wife, and David loved to show her off in public. He would boast about his wife over the phone to his coworkers and bring her to social events in beautiful gowns and full-coverage pearly makeup. But now, as the family walked through this scarcely populated mall on a Sunday morning, Aziza was as jovial as her children, chattering on about different clothing stores and sunglasses to buy and new shoes for Bakura and getting Serenity’s nails done and trying new snacks at the various vendors that lined up the mall plaza. The kids rarely got to experience their mother this way. Yami vaguely remembered the last time she saw his mother this way, she was getting married to his father. 

The rest of the day went by smoothly. After the mall, the family headed to a restaurant where Yami and bakura got to order burgers. It was a rare delicacy; the children weren’t allowed too much fatty food. But when they originally ordered something with less calories, Aziza tsked and placed the order for them. 

“It’s Sunday, boys.” Aziza chuckled half-heartedly, “the Day of Rest.” 

When the returned home, Misses Dane made a beeline for her bedroom, shutting the door behind her. The door was never closed when David was around. The children took this as a signal to find something to do amongst themselves. Bakura offered another game of Double Dutch, but the idea made Yami nauseous, and Serenity curtly denied playing with them on account of her freshly-painted nails. They closed themselves off in their respective rooms, and the house was filled with a comfortable silence. 

Yami found a lot of his solace in the tales woven in the books he read. He often heard other children in his class discuss television shows and their new episodes that would air the night before, and it made him a bit envious that he didn’t have a television nor a show to be indulged in. The only television in the house was located in his parents’ room. His father believed that television would rot their brains and distract them from their schoolwork. He would occasionally invite them into the bedroom once a weekday, but it would usually be to see what was happening in the news. All Yami and Bakura had in their room was themselves, their books, and a select few toys that they would keep stowed away while David was in the house. 

“Why you think Mom does that?” Bakura asked from his bed, fiddling with an action figure absent-mindlessly. “Whenever Dad goes on his business trips, she don’t take us to church. But when he’s here, we always gotta wake up extra early to go.” Yami could heat the sneer in Bakura’s voice. 

“Dad said not to ask too many questions.” Yami responded offhandedly. 

A knock at the door. Serenity entered abruptly the boys bedroom with a roll of her eyes. “Mom wants you, Yami.” 

Aziza lounged under the duvet in the middle of the bed, a glass of wine caressed in her gentle grip, and the flatscreen in front of her made her giggle with the voice of Dan Castellaneta. When her son came in, she set the glass down and motioned him over. “C’mere, baby.” The two cuddled and, for a moment, they watched the Simpsons together. 

“I thought Dad didn’t want us watching this show.” 

“Your father has a very stale sense of humor.” Aziza snorted, pecking her son’s forehead. “He hasn’t even seen one episode.”

“He says it’s a dumb show-” 

“Hey.” Aziza shushed him curtly, bringing him closer to her center. “That’s enough, Negative Nancy. David isn’t here. Let’s talk about something else.” Against Yami’s protests, she rolled on top of his arm, thoroughly pinning it down, and pressed the side of his head to her bosom. “Wanna know my favorite character on this show?” She cooed in his ear, making him listen, “Sideshow Bob. I just love how sophisticated he is. Reminds me of your daddy.”

“I thought you said we weren’t gonna talk about Dad.” 

“Hush.” 

The episode was watched in silence. Many of the references went over Yami’s head, of course, but he was more focused on the contentment that engulfed his mother. It radiated a warmth that was uncommon in their household, and made the boy feel all tingly inside. He leaned into it more, and let himself fall into a nap. 

“Yami?” The boy’s eyes shot open, and he met his mother’s pleasant gaze. “What was that boy’s name? The one from school that wanted to marry you.”

Yami’s stomach tightened. “Atemu Gamal.” He grumbled, “and he didn’t say he wanted to marry me.”

“I like that name.”

Yami wrinkled his nose. 

“What’s he look like? Is he ugly?”

“Yes.” 

Aziza laughed, “No, I don’t think so. In fact, I think he sounds lovely. And he’s probably a very nice little boy. I think...when you see him again, you should tell him you accept his apology.”

“But Dad told me-” Aziza’s eyebrows knitted together. Yami held his tongue. 

“Your father is a very...conservative man. He’s very traditional, and he’s devoted to his religion. You’re going to meet a lot of people in your life who are going to live very different lifestyles from you. Your classmate just happens to be one of them. That doesn’t mean he’s not a good person. In fact, I’m sure if you started over with him, you two could become friends.” Noticing her son’s disgruntled expression, Aziza combed her fingers through his hair, “David won’t find out, I promise. I won’t tell him a thing.” Agreeing to the suggestion, Yami fell back into his nap, cooing at the thumping of his mother’s heartbeat. 

When Yami returned to his room, he found Serenity behind Bakura, tending to his hair. She did not face him, but did call him over. “Mom’s right, y’know.”

“You were listening to us?! What the heck, Serenity!” 

“I think that the reason you don’t wanna talk to him is because of what Dad said to you, right? But Dad isn’t here, Yami! And I know you’re just a yes-man who blindly obeys everything that Dad commands, but Dad isn’t you! Dad’s a corporate douchebag real estate broker. You’re an eight-year old. Bakura doesn’t even listen to Dad.” Serenity paused for a moment, scoffing, “then again, Bakura isn’t you either. See? You gotta do your own thing. Mom did-- she took us to get burgers. On a Sunday. That’s like, forbidden to Dad.”

“I know. If he finds out he’ll--”

“Yami! Forget about David!” Bakura exclaimed, “there is, like, literally no way he can find out!”

“Look,” Serenity finally faced her brother, taking his hands, “you love Dad. You listen to everything he says because you want to win his love or whatever. I think that’s stupid, personally, considering you’re the youngest so you get it by default, but also, you’re a kid. You’re gonna hafta break the rules sometimes. Bakura does it—what’s the name of the boy you kiss?” 

“Ryou.” Bakura replied sweetly. 

“Ryou and Bakura kiss. Even though you guys are kinda too young for that..” Serenity eyed her siblings warily. 

“You disobey Dad..? But I thought you said he liked you more.” 

“Oh, he does. Because I’m not a nasty little boy. But I ignore him sometimes.” She leaned in close, “wanna know a secret? I kissed a boy yesterday. With tongue.” 

Yami and Bakura were astonished. Serenity sat back with a smug chuckle. “He’s a eighth grader. Really cute. He bought me a cookie at lunch. So I kissed him.” 

“That don’t seem like a good reason to—ow!” Bakura helped as Serenity pulled on a snag in his hair. 

“You get the point I’m trying to make? Go make up with that boy. Mom’s right: you barely know him. He could be really nice if you’d give him a chance to prove it…” Serenity rolled her eyes, getting up to exit the boy’s room. Yami stared down at his hands, heaving a great sigh. 

 

“Are you really gonna talk to him? Look; he’s staring at you.” Bakura hissed in front of Yami, his eyebrows creasing. Him, Ryou, and Yami sat at the far right table closest to the backdoor. They were meant to be writing in their Morning Journals about their weekends, but once Bakura mentioned Atemu, Yami’s stomach knotted up and he couldn’t feel his toes. “Wait; don’t look. His friend’s looking back here. They’re whispering.”

“Stop it.” Ryou flicked his knuckles, signaling him to stop on account of Yami’s behavior as he spoke. The boy had stopped writing completely and had almost curled in on himself, gnawing on his bottom lip. Bakura and Ryou shared uncertain looks before one of them kicked Yami’s shin, causing the boy to jump and whine. 

“If you want, we can go tell the teacher what he did on Friday.” Ryou proposed lightly, “and maybe he’ll get in trouble too.”

“I didn’t get in trouble.” The response was instantaneous and snappy. Ryou shrunk back, wishing he had never said anything. “Who said I got in trouble?” The boy’s gaze turned to Bakura, who scoffed and turned his attention elsewhere. “You told him about Dad?” 

“I tell Ryou everything.”

“It’s none of anyone’s business, Bakura. I don’t wanna talk about it anymore.” Yami put his head down. 

“No way. I heard what Mom said. She wants you to go make up with him. And if you don’t, then--” His stepbrother paused to think of a valuable threat, “then...then I’ll tell her you didn’t!”

“You’re such a tattletale.” Ryou shook his head, earning a thump from his partner. 

Disregarding Bakura’s very feasible blackmail, Yami avoided Atemu’s presence at all costs throughout the entirety of the week. Every night that Yami came home without completing his objective, Bakura would click his tongue, waggle his index, and strike through each day of the week. Yami noticed a giant red circle drawn on the calendar in the kitchen, and thankfully, his mother was clueless of its meaning. But Yami knew. If he didn’t make a move by Friday, Bakura would never let him live it down. 

He decided on what to do. 

Friday’s lunchtime was buzzing with talk on the new episodes that would air the next day. Once again, Yami and Bakura were left in the dark while others chatted lively of what they thought would happen next. As the two stood in line waiting for their pizza slice, Yami found his target. Atemu and his posse sat at their own little table together, talking excitedly with mouths full of pizza. The plan was now in motion. Once he received his lunch, Yami would make his way over to their table and take a seat, and he would only speak to Atemu. He would ignore everyone else. Every step he took made his knees grow weaker and weaker. The pure anxiety that began to set in his stomach made his plan crumble away. Suddenly, every last shred of courage he had built up throughout the week had vanished, and he stood two yards away from his destination quaking. Thoughts of his father’s words echoed in his mind. He wasn’t supposed to be doing this. Why was he doing this? His father's rationale was setting in once more, and he prepared to turn and sit with his friends, to let this be a normal day, to ignore Atemu Gamal, but all he could envision was his mother’s disappointed face. 

“Hey. Y’all see ol’ boy starin’ at us?” Marik looked up from his pizza, face pursed in a confused scowl. “Who the hell is he ooglin’?”

“He ain’t lookin’ at me unless he’s lookin’ for a fight.” Akefia grumbled, “I’ll knock his dumb block off.” 

“Ain’t nobody lookin’ at you, Akefia, shut the hell up.” Marik tilted his head a bit, “...I think he’s starin’ at you, dude.” He nudged Atemu with his elbow, a sly smirk playing on his lips. The boy peered up from his plate, turning and meeting Yami’s eyes. A slight gasp escaped him, and he gradually got up from his seat. Yami couldn’t move, his feet planted to the ground, his mind wedged in cognitive limbo. His lip quivered. His fingers went numb. 

“Hey.” Atemu cracked a simper, drawing the other boy’s attention. “You look like you’re gonna throw up.”

“I’m sorry, Atemu.” Yami choked out, gripping his plate. Bakura contemplating getting up from his table across the cafeteria to retrieve him. 

“Sorry for what? You didn’t do anything, did you?” The question was nervous. Atemu remembered the events from Friday in unfaltering chronological order, and he was genuinely surprised that Yami was confronting him after it. He promised to take this second chance more seriously. But by the looks of it, this situation needed more than earnestness. In fact, the only thing Yami seemed to need right now was a hug. The boy was planted in front of Atemu, sniveling and doing his best to fortify the dam that kept his tears at bay. His lunch tray trembled in his hands. A few teachers now watched the area closely. 

“He’s gonna cry, ain’t he?” Atemu threw a scornful glance back at Akefia. 

“Here; come sit with us.” Carefully guiding Yami to his table, sitting him down and pushing his tray aside for his guest’s. Ignoring the somewhat audible chagrin of his cohort, Atemu directed all of his attention towards the pacified Yami, who now had his hands neatly folded in his lap, eyes on his knees. The earlier conversation did not continue. All concentration was now on the group’s new company. 

“You feelin’ better now?” 

Yami nodded. 

“You wanna eat your lunch?”

Yami shook his head. Akefia sucked his teeth, and him and Marik helping themselves to Yami’s plate. Atemu did his best to fend them off without drawing his focus from his crush, but to no avail. Almost everything was taken without remorse. 

“It’s okay. They can have it.” Yami squeaked, “I’m not hungry anymore…”

Atemu frowned, poking him gently, “Hey.” He started quietly, “guess what’s on Sunday?” Noticing the pique in his interest, he continued with a growing smile. “It’s my birthday. I’m turning 9.”

“Happy early birthday, Atemu.“ The tiniest tug at a smile compelled Atemu to continue with more spirit. “My mama’s orderin’ us pizza and my big brother Heba is gonna be there and a lot of my friends from my neighborhood are gonna be there too!” 

“And you ain’t invited.” Marik sneered towards Yami. The boy shrunk in his seat. 

“Yes you are!” Atemu reassured swiftly, recovering Yami’s microscopic grin, “you’re totally invited! You can come if you wanna! A-And, there’s gonna be a sleepover after the party and we can ride bikes and I’ll take you to our secret hideout!” Instantly, there was a wave of complains from the table. 

“Don’t show him the secret hideout! It won’t make it a secret anymore if you do!”

“Yeah, he’ll just go tell other people!”

“Shut up! He can come to my birthday party if he wants to! And he’s gonna sleep on the good couch! And he’s gonna have the second slice of cake with all the icing and you guys won’t get any! All you guys are gonna get is the salad that comes with the pizza!” The table erupted in a loud chorus of whines, attracting a few heads to turn in their direction, including Bakura and Ryou’s. Atemu, spectating his friends appropriate reactions and deeming them sedated, he redirected his offer back to Yami, softer this time. “Whatcha think? I...I can give you my mom’s phone number so she can call your mom and you can come over on tomorrow. And! And I can give you the place where my house is too! But-” Atemu leaned in close, a his smile more sly, “you gotta bring me a present if you’re gonna come. You can buy me a Nintendo 64. That’s what my mama said she’s gettin’ me. And my brother too.”

“But then you’ll have three. That would be too many controllers.” 

Atemu sighed, leaning back in his seat. “You’re right. Okay then; I’ll just tell Heba to get me more Legos.”

“But he already got you the Nintendo 64. Wouldn’t that be...wrong? To ask him to get you something else? How about...I just bring you something else instead?”

“If you wanna. Everyone has to get me somethin’ anyway.”

“Do you always get what you want..? Like...toys and stuff?” 

“Well, yeah. It’s my birthday!” 

Yami pursed his lips. Brat. 

Once all the children filed back into their respective classrooms, Atemu caught up with Yami, Sharpie marker in hand, and unceremoniously doodled his mother’s phone number and address on Yami’s arm. Upside down. For the rest of the day, he had to hide the graffiti from the teachers and the rest of his peers by wearing Ryou’s too-small jacket until it was time for dismissal. Thankfully, Aziza was the first in line for pick-up. Yami ripped Ryou’s jacket off his arms and practically dove into the backseat. He watched as Ryou and Bakura exchanges a tender hug before Bakura joined his family, and they headed home. 

“It’s been a week, Yami. I hope you listened to Mom, because I’m about to tell.” Bakura snickered. 

“I did talk to him.” Yami hissed, “and I’ll tell her when we get home. You keep your mouth shut.” 

 

The van pulled into the driveway. Yami was silent. The family entered the kitchen for dinner. Yami was silent. Bakura eyed his sibling warily. Yami remained silent. 

“Tell her, stupid.” He hissed. With a slight gulp, Yami approached his mother at the stove. 

“Yes, Yami? What’s wrong?” Aziza turned and instantly caught an eyeful of the vandalism on her son’s arm. She set the spoon back in the pot and crouched down, grabbing the arm and examining close. “What is all of this? Numbers? Is this someone’s phone number?” 

“It’s Atemu’s mom’s phone number, Mom.” Yami shifted his gaze to the number. “And his address too. He invited me to his birthday party..”

“Oh yeah? So you finally spoke to him? And I guess you two are friends now, yes?”

No. “I guess..” 

“Well, what do you want to do? Do you wanna go?”

No. “No.”

Good thing for Yami; his mother didn’t want to hear that answer. So now, he sat in the front seat of their minivan on the way to Atemu Gamal’s residence. He somewhat sulked, but tried not to make it obvious, wary of a scolding from his mother. But he didn’t make an effort to look excited about going. From what he could observe, all of Atemu’s friends hated him, and the feeling was partially mutual. He had an aching sense that he would be alienated for most of the time. But that idea was actually more pleasing the more he thought about it, so a tiny smile did appear on his cheeks, catching the attention of his mother. 

Atemu’s neighborhood, however, almost made Aziza make an legal U-turn out of his subdivision. To start, the stop sign that stood before the subdivision...was bent in half, the better end leaning towards the road. Loud, booming music from an unidentified source filled the air, and the scent of fire filled the car. Yami wrinkled his nose and instantly spotted a man behind a grill with several people surrounding him. They all stopped what they were doing to watch the minivan slowly pass them. 

“Yami, “ Aziza cleared her throat, “eyes ahead.” 

Driving further down the lane, worn and torn pieces of furniture occupied the sidewalk. Kids revved around on dirt bikes in the street, barely moving out of the way for the minivan to pass. Washed up cars without wheels sat in vacant driveways, propped up by bricks. Many houses lacked shutters or windows and were boarded up. Yami even saw a house without a front door altogether. Sprinkled sprayed water brokenly over several lawns, some of which other children danced in. Large dogs sounded off as the vehicle cruised by them, the animals yanking at their restraints from the ground. Majority of the houses were one-story tall and weathered to look decades old. They all resembled each other so well...except for one mailbox that had a blue balloon tied to it. Aziza pulled up next to it, turning the car off and examining the house. Yami did the same. The two stared in hesitation before simultaneously facing one another. 

“Okay. Um..” Aziza twiddled her thumbs, gnawing on her lip, “Make sure you call me before you go to bed. Brush your teeth before breakfast and after dinner. And don’t eat too much cake. I can’t hide cavities from your father.” With a nod, they headed for the front door, stepping around fractured vases of withered foliage to ring the doorbell. Laughter and jovial screaming could be heard from the other side of the door. Yami felt that same heaviness sit in his stomach once again. His grip tightened on the wrapped box in his shaking hands. 

As soon as the doorbell rang, the familiar bright eyes of the birthday boy met with Yami’s as the door swung open and hit the house. Yami winced. Atemu beamed. 

“Ma! I toldya he would come!” He called out behind him, moving aside impatiently as a woman approached the entrance. “And he brought me a present! I toldya he would!” 

“Alright, boy, I get it! Move o’er.” The voice seemed jaded, like it had never been used powerfully. The woman’s short bobbed hair was pinned behind her ears, her brows royally arched, giving her a subtle look of intolerance. Her lips were beautifully curved, the top formed a small Cupid’s Bow while the bottom was sculpted into a full pout. Her skin was fair and bronze and clear, almost shining in the faint light of the sun’s rays. 

“Are you...Misses Gamal?” Aziza spoke up, “I’m Aziza Dane, Yami’s mother?”

“Oh, yeah! Atemu did tell me he invited a Dane.” Misses Gamal turned to her son, shooting him a look before offering her hand to Aziza, a gentle smile on her perfect lips, “I’m Thema, Atemu’s mom. Is he staying the night?” She motioned to Yami, who looked up at his mother, who nodded and urged him forward. 

“Actually, I’d like to have a word with you about that.” Thema hummed, summoning Atemu to lead Yami into the house. As he was being led through, he couldn’t help but noticing the grandiose portraits on the wall despite how humble the house looked from the exterior. Several of the photos was of a little girl dressed in a frilly white dress were hung up almost everywhere. 

“Atemu..?”

“Thank you for coming, Yami.” Atemu looked back at him, a generous smile stuck on his face. “I didn’t think you would show up because you still hated me.” 

Yami blinked owlishly. Hated him? Hate was a strong word. It wasn’t necessarily the wrong word, but still a strong one. “These pictures...who is that lady?” He pointed to the one large portrait that hung in front of them. Atemu faced the frame and snorted. “Oh. That’s my mom when she was, like, eight. She was in movies and stuff.”

“Your mom is a celebrity?”

“Not no more.”

Thema Eboni Gamal, born as Thema Eboni-Rose Berenike, was a big-time Egyptian theatrical prodigy back in ‘73, starring in several movies under the Shirley Temple sweetheart trope. She was featured in dozens of child magazines, commercials for cereals, toys, dresses, and all the while, Atemu’s grandparents made sure that Thema maintained her pristine and clean appearance, her flawlessly high-pitched voice, and her petite physique. Unfortunately, her fame began to diminish as she left high school and started college. She was able to remain relevant through occasional appearance on fashion magazines, but it ultimately crash and burned for her when news broke out to the public that she became pregnant by a low-class nobody named Aknamkanon Gamal. Her family consistently received letters that begged, pleaded, and even threatened for the baby to be aborted to preserve what was left of her untarnished legacy. Mister and Misses Berenike considered this, seeing that the wealth they had received for their daughters past was quite handsome, and confronted Thema about the child, pressuring her into abortion. Thema, feeling betrayed by her parents, denied them and refused to drop Aknamkanon. Her parents were quite unpleased with this and made the decision to cut off ties with Thema, disconnecting her from the money she had made as a child, which ultimately forced her to drop out of college and move in with Aknamkanon, all with a baby boy on the way. After the birth of Atemu’s older brother, Heba, Aknamkanon and Thema were able to marry, and a few years later, she was once again pregnant with a baby boy. That was when her parents gradually snuck back into her life, sending money and gifts on occasion. But the relationship was sullied. Thema rarely spoke to her parents, and the trend carried on long after Atemu was born and long after Aknamkanon died. To this day, Thema has yet to call her mother and father. 

“She was really pretty.” 

“The dress makes her look fat.” Atemu motioned to the frilly white dress in the picture. Yami gave him a quizzical look, to which Atemu reciprocated with a laugh. “I’m jokin’! Really! Don’t tell her I said that, though.” 

The two continued down the narrow corridor until they reached the living room, where four other boys lounged around the large television. Yami recognized Akefia and Marik assumed the other two were neighborhood friends. Power Rangers blasted on the screen, the boys all copying the phrases and sound effects they heard. When Atemu found the remote and turned the T.V. down, the boys turned around and acknowledged them curtly, not caring that Yami was there. There were no rude remarks. Yami caught Akefia smile a bit. The two got situated on the floor, Atemu whispering the show’s plot in Yami’s ear. 

“I really wish y’all wouldn’t blast this junk. I swear, them white people down the street can hear it!” Thema entered, observing the boys sprawled out on the floor. She brandished Yami’s luggage and present over her shoulder. 

“I turned it down, Mama.” Atemu announced with a smile, humming when he was thanked for it. 

“Heba!” Thema suddenly called to the air, making the boys jump. “Get in here where everyone else is at! I need to start getting ready for work!” 

The other boys in the room cheered as a taller Atemu appeared by the woman’s side. Regardless of his height, the boy looked a lot younger in the face. It was more rounded than expected, and his eyes were the same. In fact, the two brothers were almost identical besides those two features. However, Heba’s childish attributes did not distract from the permanent glare he seemed to adopt, his eyes making all that meet them inferior to him. His posture radiated annoyance, his gait relaxed. Yami felt uncomfortable under his gaze. 

“You gon’ pay me to watch ‘em?” The teen lazily drawled, eyeing his mother closely. “And I thought you took off today.” 

“They need me to fill in for someone else. I’ll be back late. Make sure they all brush they teeth and be in the bed ‘fo midnight. I’ll pay you ten for each one of them.” With newfound enthusiasm towards his task, Heba promptly greeted all of the boys and took a seat in the middle of them, shifting his little brother into his lap, much to his protests. 

Then Yami was summoned. “I’m gonna make sure Atemu puts your clothes and stuff in his room, okay? He can tell you where everything is at when it’s time for you all to go to bed. Your mama told me you need to call her before you go to sleep, yeah? Well I won’t be here around that time, so you just go ask Heba for the phone when that time comes, okay?” 

“He gotta do what? Why?” Heba’s head twisted backwards to participate. Ignoring her son, Thema disappeared down the hall. Heba sucked his teeth. 

The children, for the most part, were quietly watching their show, Heba the least interesting next to Yami, who couldn’t keep up with any of what he was seeing. He examined the others, who were intently analyzing the show, and almost felt jealous that they understood what was happening and he didn’t. 

“Atemu, baby,” Atemu stood up at the coo from his mother. She came in, her robe replaced with light blue scrubs that did nothing for her figure. “How about...you go open your presents now?” 

“Right now? But the pizza ain’t here yet!” Thema shot her son a look that forced him silent. He nodded obediently and sat on the couch, “Guys, I’m gonna open my presents now! If you didn’t get me anything, you gotta leave—hey!” Atemu frowned as Heba pardoned himself and started for the door. He laughed and sat back down, giving the thumbs up. The TV was shut off, and the presents were presented in front of the birthday boy. 

First was Marik’s gift, which was a pack of Marvel action figures. Akefia got him a pack of Power Ranger figurines, and the debate over who was the Red Ranger. It was concluded that Atemu could be the Red Ranger, Akefia could be the Blue Ranger, Marik could be the Black Ranger. This pacified the argument...for now. 

Heba tapped on his brother’s shoulder, grinning wide and forking over a crisp twenty-dollar bill. Atemu gasped with delight, snatching the dollar up and waving it in front of his friends’ faces. Yami marveled at the bill; he had never gotten any sort of money for his birthday. 

What a brat. 

“Happy birthday, Atemu.” Yami forced a smile as Atemu took time to savor the present he got him. The boy slowly tore the paper off the box, his eyes widening with every strip of paper discarded. 

“Oh, Yami…thank you.” It was soft and heartfelt for it to just be a new LEGO set. Aziza thought it would be a sign of peace between the two. Yami didn’t want to get him anything. “I did say I wanted more of these…”

“I remember you saying that at lunch on Friday, so...I told my mom about them and she said I could get them for you.” Yami felt his ears redden. 

“That’s very nice of you, Yami.” Thema spoke up, clearing her throat gingerly, “but you stole my idea.” She pulled out her gift, setting it in Atemu’s lap. “I’m sorry, baby, I got you Legos too.” Her son stared at the box in dismay. He really didn’t appreciate having two boxes of the same gift. He stripped the box down, nevertheless, and cried out in jubilation at the sight. “Oh? You wanted two boxes of Legos?”

“Mama! This ain’t a pack of Legos!” He flashed the room an incredulous grin. “Mama! Mama—you got me a 64!” Akefia, Marik, Heba, and everyone else in the room crowded around, gaping at the box. 

“Ain’t there s’posed to be a game that go with it?” Marik asked. “Ya can’t have a console without no game.” All eyes were directed towards Thema. She sucked her teeth, “y’all must think of me as dense! I know the damn thing need a game.” She pulled a hand from behind her back, revealing a brand new cartridge for Super Mario 64. “This better not end up broke, Atemu.” The woman chuckled, crouching down and handing off the game, observing her child’s excitement. The uproar grew, the partygoers pushing to see. 

“You gon’ let us play with that, Atemu? I call first!”

“Nah, he ain’t even say you can play with it!”

“Baby, I gotta go.” Atemu jumped up, throwing his arms around his mother’s legs. “You behave. The house better be here when I get back.”

“You ain’t gotta go, Ma. You can wait ‘til the pizza get here, right?” 

“Baby, the pizza shoulda been here a while ago. I can't wait for late pizza.” Against her son’s whine, she called Heba over and gave him instructions for when the pizza arrived. Atemu clung to Thema’s legs, whimpering as she trudged to the garage door. “Atemu, let go, baby. I’m sorry.” With grave reluctance, he released his mother and shuffled after her, pouting as she made her way to the garage. Before she left, however, she reached down and pecked the boy’s head. His happy smile returned.

“Bye, Mama.”

“Bye-bye, baby.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By the way, sorry my Notes are so bland. I'm new to this platform, and not really sure what I should say. I'll get better. Promise. AS always, leave critique and ask questions if you have them! I'll have to go back and edit the mistakes I find, but right now, I'm too tired to mess with this chapter anymore.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whaaaat? New chapter already? Hell yeah.
> 
> Enjoy!

The pizza arrived 30 minutes after Thema left. During that waiting period, Heba had to find a way to connect the console to the TV and keep the boys patient and quiet. He put Atemu in charge of paying the delivery man, who instantly starting asking him far too many questions about his occupation before paying. 

“How much money do you make sellin’ pizzas? Do you make more money if you sell the ones that got bacon on them?”

“No, I don’t.” 

“How old you gotta be to make the pizzas? I don’t wanna give ‘em to nobody. I just wanna know how to make ‘em. Do they teach y’all how to make ‘em?” 

“The pizzas are gonna get cold, kid. You gonna pay for them any time soon?” 

“I ain’t got the money. My brother does, though.” 

The delivery man clicked his tongue. “You gonna ask him for the money?”

“He’s busy hookin’ up my 64 to the TV. Oh yeah! Did you know today was my birthday? My mama got me a Nintendo 64 with Super Mario on it!”

“Atemu! Whatcha doin’, man? You’re s’pposed to—never mind, just...hold up.” Heba dropped what was in his hands and fished in his pocket, pulling out a wrinkled twenty and stepping over the other children to the delivery man. “I’m sorry, man, I—I can’t control him.”

“Mhm.” The man took the box and shoving it into the annoyed hand of the man. He ushered Atemu off into the living room, balancing the pizzas with one hand. 

“Hey, kid!” Atemu whirled around. “Happy birthday.” With a large grin, Atemu rushed the delivery boy, hugging his legs. 

 

“Why’d you hug the pizza guy like that, dude?” Marik asked, mouth full of cheese pizza. The boys sat huddled around the glass coffee table. Heba lounged on the couch, house phone to his ear, chatting away carelessly. Yami stayed silent, observing the dynamic of the room. 

“Because he told me happy birthday.” Atemu replied simply, tinkering with one of his action figures. “He was nice.”

“That guy was a loser.” Akefia snorted, tossing a glance at the door, “who wants to grow up and deliver pizzas to people? Lame. When I get big, I’m gonna be a zillionaire and buy a million pizzas. And I’m gonna eat all of ‘em.” 

“You can’t eat a million pizzas, Akefia.” Heba chimed. 

Yami peered up at the teen, grimacing a bit. What a downer. “My mom tells me,” he spoke up, ignoring the looks he got, “that you can do anything you put your mind to.” Heba, looking down at the boy with interest, chortled. 

“What..?” 

“Didn’t know you could speak in full sentences.” Another jerky chuckle. “And you can’t eat a million pizzas. Not in one sitting. It’s unrealistic, kid.” 

“Shaddup, Heba! You’re only sayin’ that because you’re a fatty who doesn’t like pizza.” The remark earned a giggle from the children, excluding Yami, who became concerned at the glare Heba was giving Marik for the sly comment. He grew even more so when the vengeful glare was replaced with a lazy smile. 

“I’m a fatty?” 

“Yeah. That’s why you always sit around and watch TV and talk on the phone and never go outside.” Atemu shrugged, munching on his slice. 

“Because I’m a fatty.” Came the confirmation. “Hm. That’s interesting. And what does that make y’all? I suppose y’all think yourselves as big buff dudes, yeah?” Atemu’s brother hummed when the party nodded in agreement. “Well then. Big buff dudes shouldn’t be stuffin’ their faces with greasy pizza, should they?” All movement in the world ceased. All eyes were on Heba, silently wishing for him to elaborate. “I mean, if they sat around and did nothing but eat pizza and play Super Mario...then—“ He gasped, feigning mortification, “then you all wouldn’t be big and buff! In fact...I think that would make you all fatties just. Like. Me.” The nefarious grin that was stretched on Heba’s face was a sight that Yami was all too familiar with. Serenity would pull the same stunt on him and Bakura whenever she would try and manipulate them to do her bidding. However, because Yami had played this kind of mind game before, he knew how to reciprocate. He shook his head, turning to face the rest of the table. What he met were the displeased faces of the rest of the party. Surely Atemu and his friends had dealt with this kind of manipulation before, and surely they knew how to combat it. Right?

No. Unfortunately, Yami’s superior intellect was surrounded by blockheads. 

The other boys scurried out of the living room and into the garage, clamoring about how they refused to end up being a fatty like Heba. Yami felt like rolling his eyes, and pursed his lips when he caught a quiet, triumphant snicker from behind him. With no other alternative option, he rejoined the group in the garage. 

“Can’t believe that blockhead was lettin’ ya just...sit there! What if we end up fat like him?” Yami sighed as he entered the conversation, rolling his eyes at the question. Never before had he felt like the mature adult. Being ringed by fools made his chest swell with something that could only be described as pretentiousness. 

“We won’t. Only teenagers get fat from eating too much pizza. And then, they get pizza-face. And then, they call their other pizza-face-fatty friends and talk about how much they hate pizza because they ate too much of it.” Akefia explained, searching the garage for something, “trust me. If we can get away from him, he won’t be able to give us what he’s got.” 

Yami wasn’t sure if the boys were playing dumb, or were actually believing that acne was contagious. 

“But he might catch us. We’ll need a hiding place.” 

“What about the Oasis?” Marik proposed, and the party went silent. All eyes trailed to Yami.

“Yami...this is really serious.” Atemu started, voice low and mixed with urgency. Yami didn’t know Atemu could sound so...ardent. “We’re going to the Oasis. You have to pinky-swear promise me that you won’t tell anyone about it. Not anyone at school, not your mama or your papa or your sister or your brother. Especially your brother. Don’t tell him anything. What happens in the Oasis stays at the Oasis.” Yami shrugged, agreeing to keep his mouth shut about this “Oasis” even though he was certain this was another embellishment the boys had concocted out of sheer boredom. Or maybe it was another imaginary concept that Heba planted in their heads so he could dodge responsibility. Regardless of all explanations, he wasn’t too thrilled in following them. However, he remembered what he witnessed on the way into Atemu’s subdivision, and reminded himself that he was a visitor in this unknown territory. So, when the boys were mounting bicycles and scooters in preparation of departure, and Atemu invited Yami to ride on the pegs of his bike, he sucked up his pride and boarded on with a pseudo smile.  
Apparently, the route to the “Oasis” was littered with stops. First, the gang rode up a few meters to another house, and approached the kids playing in the yard, telling them to meet them at their destination as soon as they could. Several of these tedious stops were made just to relay the same information, and, in time, a small herd of children were heading to the same place in different directions by scooter, skateboard, bike, or bare foot. 

“Atemu, how can this place be a secret is everyone seems to know about it?” Yami asked.

“Oh. Only the kids know about it. Adults aren’t welcome.” 

True to his word, not a single adult was in sight. The children slowed their vehicles down when they came up to looming hedge that was beautifully decorated with pink roses. Of course, Yami had no time to admire them because the children unregrettably trampled through the foliage, ditching their bikes in favor of jogging the rest of the way. 

And then, Yami saw why it was called the Oasis. 

Ahead of him was this massive lake, which was a tolerable murky light green, that seemed to stretch on forever. It was speckled with white waterlilies, and the occasion ripple indicated there was life underneath them. Mallards casually squawked and bobbed under the water, coming back up and ruffling their feathers like they didn’t have an audience. The body was contained by this beautiful ring of bulrushes and pickerels and arrowheads that appeared to peak out of the banks and vibrant purple irises that had yet to bloom. Cicadas and crickets added their own chirping symphonies to the background, producing their own organic music that cooed in Yami’s ears. The serenity of the scene was something straight out of a storybook. But that was only the water. While everyone else had already situated themselves on the grass or around the lake, Yami was entranced at the sight of large pastel-colored houses that stood boldly against the sunset sky. Soft blues and greys and whites meshed too perfectly, their dark roofs clashing wonderfully with the orange and pink above them. The sun was gradually retiring behind one particular house and just so happened to be reflecting off the mirror-like surface of the water this timid yellow glow. He was so lost in it all that he barely acknowledged Atemu speaking to him. 

“I know why it’s called the Oasis.” Yami breathed, “I’ve never seen anything so pretty.”

“You like the lake?” Atemu took the boy’s hand, leading him closer to the water, “it goes with that house up there.” He pointed to a distinctly all white house that stood ancient over the lake. 

“They let you guys come and play on their property?”

“Course not. The guy who owned the lake died like three years ago.” Noticing the horrified look on his guest’s face, Atemu continued with a grin. “The guy was a dinosaur, Yami. He was super old and grumpy all the time. I heard that his wife died before him, and he got really sad about it, so he locked himself up in his house and never cut his grass and lets his dog run all around the Mai’s part of the neighborhood. And he didn’t like nobody. Whenever people would try and be nice to him, he’d shake his cane at them from his porch and yell and call them names. I heard one kid’s dog ran onto his yard and was never seen again.” He paused, finally meeting Yami’s widened eyes, “at least, that’s what I heard from Mai.”

“You guys always come play in a dead man’s lake?” Yami asked airily.

“Well, Mai said that, since he died a real long time ago, it would be okay. It ain’t like the lake is haunted or somethin’. We don’t ever go in his backyard. Mai said he got a dog that eats metal.” He took a seat on the bank of the water, paying no mind to the mosquitoes that whizzed around him excitedly. Yami hesitantly did the same. For a moment, they sat together in silence, letting the clamor of Atemu’s friends fill the empty air. A toad croaked beside Yami, who jumped in surprise. 

“Go on and touch him. He ain’t gonna bite ya.” With help, Yami stroked the frog’s head with his index finger, cringing at the slimy sleekness. He wiped the digit on his shirt and pulled his legs to his chest. Atemu dug his toes into the mud. The silence ensued. 

“Y’know,” Atemu started, his tone hinting at a sort of sadness, “you ain’t said a whole lot since you’ve been here.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I know you still hate me a little.”

“I don’t...hate you.”

“But you don’t like me either.”

Yami wrapped his arms around his knees. It was the other’s turn to apologize. “If you want, you can go home. I won’t be mad about it.”

Did he want to go home? Granted, he felt terribly out of place in literally every setting he’d been in today. But after being introduced to such a marvel that he knew he would never see again if he left...his options were limited. It was either this, or playing board games with his family back in his Oasis-less neighborhood. 

“I wanna stay, Atemu. I’m having fun.” Atemu gave him a doubtful look. “I really am! I swear. I like this place. It’s pretty. And your family is really nice…”

“I’ll get Marik and Akefia to be nicer to you.”

Actually, that would fix almost everything. “Thank you.”

The next phase of silence that took place wasn’t as awkward. In fact, it was so relaxed that when Atemu inched over to him, Yami acknowledged it and didn’t roll his eyes. 

“Hey...you kept talking about somebody named Mai? Who’s she?”

Atemu snickered, “The Neighborhood Princess. She lives over there on the other side and knows everything that happens over there. Sometimes, she comes here with her friends and I catch them feeding the ducks and stuff. She’s a big fat drama queen.”

“Is she your friend, too?”

“Uh-huh. I got friends all over the place.”

Must be nice. 

To break the cycle of silences, the two got up and decided to join the other boys in...whatever it is they were doing. All Yami could see was handfuls of mud being flung at each other. He really didn’t want to participate, but for Atemu’s sake, he scooped up a ball of mud and chucked it at Marik, who in turn started to chase him around the lake, which triggered Atemu to follow after Marik. Soon, an all-out war had commenced. By the time it looked as if the flinging would calm down, a shout directed their attention elsewhere. “Whoaa! Akefia! Look who’s here!” 

A short, blonde-haired pigtailed girl wearing overalls quietly walked across No Man’s Land, nose in the air, bearing a doll in one hand and a small pink goodie bag in the other. She did her best to ignore the calls the boys threw at her, and for a moment, it seemed as if she were a stonewall. Until Akefia caught eye of her.

“Ah!” He exclaimed, his arms out wide, “it’s my girlfriend, guys! It’s my girlfriend! She’s here to give me a hug!” The girl barely missed Akefia’s embrace, squealing at the sight of his muddy self. Finally, her shrill voice could be heard, and it drew nothing but derisive laughter. 

“Stop it, Akefia! You’re gonna get mud on me!” 

“Aw, what’s the matter? You worried ‘bout a little mud? Don’t want worms to get in your hair and crawl into your brain?!” Mai squealed more, moving away from Akefia as quickly as she could. 

“Hey, Mai!” Atemu waved her over, his own hug getting denied on account of his muddy self as well. “I thought you didn’t like to come here.”

“I didn’t say that. I said I don’t like comin’ here while you guys are around.” 

“I see you still ain’t got no front teeth.” He snickered.

“Shut up. Daddy said they’re gonna grow back real quick.” She threw a bang out of her face, “he gave me five dollars for both of them.”

“Oh yeah? Well I got twenty dollars for my birthday. And action figures. And a Nintendo 64.”

“Whatever, Atemu. I got way more stuff for my birthday, so I don’t care. But…” she held out the doll and placed it in his muddy hand. “I did say I was gonna get you a present. So there.”

Atemu stared at the toy, his face blank. A crowd had gathered around the two, Yami being able to squeeze in and catch a glimpse of the doll. It looked very old and worn, and the mud didn’t help it look better. “Wow, Mai.” Atemu then deadpanned, “I love it. You gonna let me shove it up your nose?” Snickers instigated from the crowd. Mai huffed, snatching the doll back. “Very funny, stupid. No, I won’t. That wasn’t even the right gift.” She snatched the doll out of his grasp and replaced it with the goodie bag. Atemu wrinkled his nose. 

“It’s pink.”

“Yep.”

“I don’t like pink.”

“Well, _I _like pink.”__

__“But the present is for me. Who cares what color you like. It should be red.”_ _

__“I chose the bag for the present. The present isn’t the bag, stupid.”_ _

__Rolling his eyes, he wiped his dirty hand on his shirt and fished into the bag, pulling out a handful of warm miniature chocolate chip cookies. ‘Ooos’ and ‘ahhhs’ made him stuff them back in._ _

__“My momma is having a party and she invited a bunch of people I don’t know. I remembered it was your birthday, too, so I grabbed one of her goodie bags and put some cookies in it. Happy birthday. I hope your teeth fall out like mine did. And I hope they never ever ever grow back. Ever.” With that, she whipped around and made her way back to her house, shoving Akefis out of the way once more._ _

__“Ooo, she’s feisty!” Everyone laughed, nudging Akefia suggestively._ _

__“Don’t worry. I like ‘em like that.” He replied simply._ _

__Yami tapped Atemu on the shoulder once the gathering dissipated. He offered one of the cookies to Yami, who gratefully took it. “Don’t worry about her. I told you she’s a drama queen.” Just when he was about to pop the treat into his mouth, a loud gunshot echoed through the air. All the children ducked and screamed, some in fear. Yami was one of them. When he looked up, he and the rest of the kids only had seconds to see an old man wielding a shotgun, yelling explicit names at them. The Oasis became empty within no time, the boys laughing as they took to their vehicles, yelling back at the old man before speeding off._ _

__“Yo!” Marik laughed breathlessly, “I didn’t think he was gonna shoot at us this time!”_ _

__“This time?” Yami gripped Atemu’s shoulders tightly, “Atemu...who was that guy?”_ _

__“Oh. Uh. Yeah, that’s the old guy who owns the lake. Guess he ain’t dead after all. Oops.” Atemu peered back at Yami, who had betrayal written all over his face, “look on the brightside. At least he missed ya.”_ _

__

__Bit by bit, the herd of mischief makers broke up and went home. The sun was almost completely out of sight by the time Atemu’s party arrived back on their lawn. Heba instantly came outside, exclaiming. “What the hell was that gunshot? Y’all heard it, right?!” The boys chuckled skittishly, “yeah. We heard it.”_ _

__Heba stared at their faces for a moment, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. “...y’all went to that damn old man’s lake again, didn’t you?” Laughter broke out as the boys admitted this, wheeling their bikes into the open garage. “You should’ve seen his face, Heba! He was sooooo red!” Heba came around the corner soundlessly, holding the hose in his hands. The boys froze, watching the dripping nozzle._ _

__“Heba…?”_ _

__“Mama would kill me if y’all tracked all that damn mud in the house.” He turned the nozzle on, and a jet of water shot out at the boys, who shrieked in mock terror and ran for the lives. As he ran, Yami felt joyous laughter bubbling in his chest, and for the first time since he had gotten there, he was having a genuinely good time. The cookies Mai had given Atemu were ruined, but he didn’t really care. In fact, he launched the soppy cookies at Heba in retaliation before submitting._ _

__Nighttime rolled around faster than expected. Thema still wasn’t home yet, but Atemu tried to overlook it by helping his brother set up the living room for sleeping while everyone else brushed their teeth and changed. As the bathrooms were being used, Heba gave Yami the house phone to call his mother. She answered after one ring._ _

___“Yami? Hi, sweetheart!” ____ _

____“Hi, mom.”_ _ _ _

_____“Are you having a good time? Did Atemu like his present?” ____ _ _ _

______“Yes, he did.”_ _ _ _ _ _

_______“Have you gotten ready for bed yet?” ____ _ _ _ _ _

________“Not yet. The bathrooms are full.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_________“Make sure you brush your teeth, okay?” ____ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Yes, ma’am.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

___________“Alright, sweetie. I’ll be there to pick you up tomorrow morning. I love you.” ____ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________“I love you too, mom. Goodnight.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________With teeth brushed and pajamas on, the night started to wind down for the partygoers. Heba had withdrew to his room, leaving the boys with the TV on and the rest of the pizza. Atemu had let his friends play on his console while he did his best to make Yami comfortable with sleeping on the floor._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________“I wish we had a bed for all of us to sleep on.” He said wistfully._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________“No, no. This is okay.” Yami reassured, facing Atemu, “I had fun today.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________“I did too.” The birthday boy giggled, “sorry about the whole Oasis thing. I promise I thought the old man had died.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________“At least nobody got hurt.” Yami sighed, shaking his head as he recalled what had transpired a few hours ago. That was one of the most adrenaline-pumping events to ever take place in his life so far. The only thing that competed with that was getting into the Final Two at his first grade Spelling Bee._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________“So you don’t hate me no more?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________The question caught him off guard. “Atemu, I never…” How could he put this without lying? “I never really...hated you. I was just mad at you for what you did. But...I talked to my mom and my sister and brother about it...and they said I should forgive you.” Atemu perked up. “So I do. I forgive you.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________Atemu released a breath of relief he didn’t know he was holding._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________“And I think...I want to try and be your friend, too.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________Atemu released another breath of relief he didn’t know he was holding. “Should I...say who I am again?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________“Huh?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________“Like...should I, like, re-say my name and stuff? Y’know, like...start over.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________“Oh. Um...sure?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________“Okay.” Atemu cleared his throat, “Hi, Yami Dane. My name is Atemu Gamal and I would really wanna friends with you.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________Yami found himself giggling at the ridiculousness of it all. However, it didn’t stop him from doing it too. “Hi, Atemu Gamal. I like your hair.” Hearing Atemu laugh encouraged Yami to go on. “I don’t really know you too much...but I think I want to be your friend, too.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________“Then, from this night on, till...I dunno...forever! Me and you are officially friends. And I promise I won’t screw it up.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________“I promise not to screw it up either, Atemu. Pinky-promise.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaaaand with that ends the Past! The next chapter will take place in the Present!
> 
> AS always, Kudos, comments, and critique is always welcomed! See you next chapter!

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so I feel it's necessary to say that I do not hold the same beliefs as Mister Dane. The characters' beliefs are different from my own. Yami will be a bit homophobic throughout the story, but it deals with the character, I promise. Just stick around, it gets better. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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